On a Quiet Night
by Queen Dork12
Summary: A Rory and Jess meeting in the future, but not the far future. A few months before graduation or so. Rory/Jess ALL the way. PLEASE read and tell me if I should continue and build on this story.
1. This is Nice

Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore Girls, nor did I create it. I think that Amy Sherman-Palladino is a genius, a goddess, and I worship her. I do, however, own Milo Ventimiglia and this silly little story.  
  
Author's note: Hey everybody! Ok, this is only my second story that I've ever shared with anyone besides my lit. teacher, so PLEEEASE, please, please please read and review. I need all the criticism that I can possibly get, so come on! Make me cry if you have to. This is just a little story about a Rory and Jess meeting, in the future, but not the too far future. Probably a few months before graduation or so. I need to know if you guys think it's good enough to build on, and if so, lots of suggestions so I can give you what you want to read! I really appreciate any feedback. Thanks much!!  
  
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The town is covered in a blanket of darkness as I amble through the lazy night. Everyone seems to be sleeping, except me, and I have learned from experience that the town is incredibly beautiful this time of night. It's so quiet and still-for a change-because all of the daily bustle, the hushed gossip and melodramatic "scandals" of the everyday life disappears at this hour. Everything closes its eyes to rest, appears to actually fade into time, and freezes there. I feel dangerously anonymous, but I find that I like the feeling.  
  
As I turn the corner toward the bridge, it feels as if I am the only one in the world who is awake, the only existing member of the human race. But I'm not. Because, of course, there you are. I stop dead in my tracks and then rush behind the trees to safely watch you. It's not often that I have a chance to simply watch you, study you, and I feel as if I need to take advantage of the opportunity while it presents itself. After all, we're both leaving soon. Too soon. Me to Yale and you to somewhere surprisingly not to work in a truck stop or another diner. You're going to college. Where, you don't yet know, but the only thing that matters is that you're going. You approached me-ever so reluctantly-for help on your applications, and the news is due back any day now. I know it'll be good.  
  
It fills me with a sense of deep pride, knowing that I was the one who helped you get this far. But it also fills me with an overwhelming sadness like no other I've ever known. Who knows when we will see each other again? Maybe never. I could go through the rest of my life never talking to you ever again. I've often found myself lately just outright staring at you, trying to engrave every last detail of your face into my mind. I try to remember every word you utter, every gesture you make. I'm terrified that one day I'll forget you. You're terribly unforgettable, but I wonder just the same. Will there come a day when you're simply a memory hanging around in the back of my mind? Will you forget me? Will we ever have any more memories together, or will we grow old thinking of what could have been? My eyes threaten to fill up at the mere thought of these questions, and my stomach is consumed with dread for the upcoming time that I've looked forward to my entire life.  
  
But then I realize that there is something I can do. I can make sure that we have at least one more memory together. And with that final thought, I leave my fear behind, put one foot in front of the other, and venture forwards.  
  
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I hear you coming toward me, almost timidly. You're walking faster than usual, which means that you're acting on some sort of wild impulse, but your footsteps sounds timid all the same. I wonder why you're here. Maybe you just couldn't sleep. Or maybe you too have discovered the beauty of this town at night, and the calming effect it can have on your confusing thoughts.  
  
"Hi," you say, and sure enough, there's a mixture of impulsive breathlessness and timid hesitation in your voice.  
  
"Hi," I reply, my voice void of any emotion. I risk a look at you, and for once I can't read the look in your eyes. They're open even wider than usual, and seem almost afraid, even sad. Maybe both. I don't know. You're not making any effort to look away. You're also not making any effort to say more, so I do.  
  
"There's room here for two, you know." You look startled, like a deer caught in the headlights, as if I had caught you doing something you shouldn't have.  
  
"What?"  
  
I smirk slightly at this. "You can sit down."  
  
"Oh, right.sit. Yeah, I was...I should. I am. Sit.sitting," you babble, and it's all I can do to keep from laughing out loud for the first time in God knows when. I do, however, give in to the secondary urge to genuinely smile, and am surprised to find I still know how.  
  
"OK, then. Sit." You plop down abruptly, jostling me. I expect you to apologize and move away quickly, and you begin to, but then seem to have a change of heart. Our bodies are close against each other, and I can feel how cold you are even through your clothes. I see you sneak a look at me, the corners of your mouth turning up slightly. I wonder if that means that I'm fun to look at. I hope so.  
  
"So.what are you doing?" you ask suddenly. This obvious question makes me smile for the second time in one night, probably some kind of record or something.  
  
"Just.sitting here. Couldn't really sleep."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Had some stuff on my mind."  
  
"Yeah.me too," you say, almost inaudibly, and I wonder about the hidden complexity of the meaning in this simple reply.  
  
I pause before I add, "I actually come out here a lot. It's really.well, the crazy town's actually tolerable this time of night."  
  
"Yeah, me too," you say, smiling, "Except it's always pretty tolerable for me. Just even more so at night. It's so beautiful. I love coming out here to walk around, or thing, or just.be, you know? It's comforting. I mean to just be in the quiet. It's just so hard to find someone to be quiet with. Everybody thinks you always have to be talking, or doing something, but just doing nothing, just being quiet is really, really nice." You look up at me after this little speech, and abruptly blush and look down again.  
  
"I'm sorry, I just."  
  
"Just.what? What are you sorry for?"  
  
"Just babbling, I mean, I don't know-"  
  
"No, don't be sorry. I know what you mean." You're still facing your lap, and I know you don't believe me, so I insist further.  
  
"I do," I say forcefully and with conviction, and you look up. I meet your eyes, and we sit like that for a while, just looking at one another.  
  
After a while you smile. "This is nice. The quiet, I mean. Just being here. With you." Then you bury your face into my shoulder and put your cold hand on top of my warmer one, and you do it as if this were the most natural thing in the world to do.  
  
Once the initial shock passed over, I could feel yet another smile creeping over my face, this one a wide and goofy grin. I'm alarmed to feel this action becoming familiar to me, and I have to stop and wonder exactly what kind of power you're in possession of, anyway. But I decide to ponder this another night, and slip the arm with the free hand around your shoulder. Your head is still buried against me, and I wrap my fingers around yours, squeezing them lightly. With this newfound sense of contentment, my mouth finally begins to work again.  
  
"Yeah, it is," I agree, "This is nice."  
  
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Once again, pretty please with chocolate-covered espresso beans on top, review!! Be harsh and brutally honest and give me ideas! Also, if you have the time, read my other story, Innocence. It's a Jess thought piece, and I was wondering if I should do like, a Rory counterpart or something. Just lemme know!! Thank you. 


	2. No regrets

Author's Note: Wow! Thank you guys sooo much for all the wonderful reviews. You really have no idea how much they meant to me, every last one. I wasn't going to continue this story, because I liked the ending I had, but I figured what the hell! If the rest of the chapters turn out to suck, then I'll know better next time. But for now, I'm gonna give the chapter thing a try. You guys BE HONEST as to how you like it. I mean it, now. I'm still new to this whole thing, and your feedback is the only way I know what to change, or what to keep doing to same. Some people wondered about Dean, and I don't really know what to say! Tee hee. I guess let's just pretend they broke up. I don't want or know how to work that into this story, so oh well. Anyways, REVIEW!!!!!!! Thank you, guys. You all ROCK!  
  
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Jess POV  
  
I can't remember exactly what happened as we left that night. I can't recall who insinuated we leave, how long we were there, or what words were exchanged as we went back to our beds for a sleepless and mind-churning night. In the back of my mind there is a faint picture of an unspoken good- bye: you lifting your head from my shoulder after what seemed like an eternity, smiling bashfully, and gently rubbing my rough hand with your soft, fragile fingers. With one last look into my eyes, we both seemed to know that our time was up. You stood up, opened your mouth to say something, and shut it again, leaving me silently with my thoughts, sitting stunned out there on that godforsaken bridge.  
  
It began snowing that night. Mother Nature seemed to realize the gravity of the situation, and opened up the snow gates. It snowed so hard that even this winter-wonderland wannabe town had to shut down. Luke's has been closed for a few days now, so I haven't seen you since.  
  
I'm sort of glad that I have more time to think this through-although I've gotten next to nothing accomplished on the matter-but I just wish I had some inkling as to what has been going through your mind these last few days. I know that you tend to panic in situations akin to this; you wig out and automatically regret everything that occurred, regardless to how you really feel about it. And who's to say this time will be any different, this being a "mistake" in your mind, and you leaving me here in the dust with so many things that need to be said?  
  
If Luke's were open, I'd at least know if you and your mom had formed some elaborate plot to avoid me at all costs, which means you did regret what happened, or if this time was different after all. I guess I'll just find out in due time. But until then, I can't think straight. I can't concentrate; I can't sleep. That's probably the reason why I'm here in the middle of the night, sitting on a barstool, just looking out of the window. I'm lost in my whirlwind of thoughts when I see a spark of movement in the now-placid town.  
  
You and Lorelai are walking our in the blizzard. Of course. When no one else can even set foot outside their own door, you two are out at precisely 1:12 in the morning. You're both talking animatedly, and then Lorelai says something that causes you to burst out in laughter. It amuses me to see the little spurts of air come from your mouth out into the frigid night, and endears me to see the soft snowflakes in your hair, on your clothes, and I'm sure, if I were close enough to see, on your eyelashes.  
  
And that's when your eyes land on me here in the window, watching you. Just as quickly as you started to laugh, you stop, and I catch another peek of the deer-caught-in-headlights look. Lorelai stops to see what is bothering you, but you don't look away from me. She follows your gaze and sees me frozen on the spot. I tear myself away from you just long enough to meet her eyes, and something in my expression makes hers soften. She squeezes your arm, says something I long to hear, and walks home alone.  
  
For a while, we just stand there looking at one another, and I have a déjà vu of the night on the bridge. This time, I am the one to look away. I put up my barstool and go behind the counter, daring you silently to move. I will know now if you regret it, by whether you come in or go home.  
  
When I hear the tinkling of the bells on the door, I can barely contain my excitement. You, for the second time in a week, have surprised me. I don't know where things with us are going, but I know that they are going somewhere. And right now, that's all that matters to me.  
  
  
  
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Rory POV  
  
I don't know how I got in here. One minute I was out with mom taking one of our walks in the snow, trying to get my mind off of you, and-for the first time in these past few days-actually succeeding. Then the next thing I knew I was looking into your eyes, seemingly deeper than I ever had before, and having a déjà vu of the other night.  
  
Everything then seemed to be part of this trance I had sunken into. Mom squeezed my arm and whispered something, but I could barely feel her touch, and her words seemed like a vague blur, sounding something like, "You go get him, babe." She walked away and I tried to get my legs to follow her, but they wouldn't obey me. As you looked away and turned around, they seemed to have a different plan in mind. I hardly felt myself moving, but the next thing I knew, I was in here. With you.  
  
Your back is turned to me behind the counter. I don't know what to say, so I am silent. After all, it was you who agreed with me that the quiet is nice. I take down a barstool and sit down across from you, and take off my coat that is soaked from the snow. Just as I am racking my brain for a clever and witty conversation starter, my good old mouth takes over.  
  
"Hey." Oh, good God. Is that all I know how to say anymore? At the rate my vocabulary is shrinking these days I'll never make it at Yale. While I am in the middle of cursing myself and ordering my mouth not to open again without permission, you decide to turn around.  
  
"Want some coffee?" Not even waiting for my reply, you set a steaming mug down in front of me. "It's freezing out there. You need something warm."  
  
"Thank you," I say finally, in lack of other originality. "I really need this. Me and mom ran out. Today. Well, yesterday, really, now, but we did run out. Doose's is closed, so yeah. I'm kind of in caffeine withdrawal."  
  
Without so much as a reply, you abruptly turn around and start fiddling with something. I crane my neck to see what you're doing, but I can't. I twist my position to try and see better, and just as I'm about to fall out of my stool, you turn around to see me. You give me that trademark smirk, but your eyes are twinkling and kind. You toss something to me, and I clumsily catch it. It's a plastic bag filled to the brim with coffee beans.  
  
"I know that'll only last you and your mom about an hour, but this weather can't last much longer. You can get more soon."  
  
I try not to let the surprise show on my face as I say, "Thanks. Um, wow. You really might have saved a life here."  
  
"Glad I could be of assistance." You prop your elbows up on the counter and look at me. Then, faster than I could blink, you move your hand up to my face and your long fingers brush against my eyelashes. I close my eyes tightly, wondering what on earth you could be doing, and then I feel your hand drop. Hesitantly opening my eyes, I see you in the same position you were in before, smiling at me. It occurs to me that I've never really seen you smile except a rare few times.  
  
"You have snowflakes on your eyelashes," you say quietly.  
  
"Oh!" I move to wipe them away, but your hand catches mine before it can reach my eyes.  
  
"Don't," you say, never letting go of my hand. "They're beautiful."  
  
I am beyond puzzled hearing you say this, and you sense it. You squeeze my hand reassuringly, and I find that everything feels alright when you do.  
  
"Do you regret it?" Your question catches me off guard in the tenderness of the moment.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Do you regret it?"  
  
"Regret? What do you mean? Regret what?"  
  
"The other night. At the bridge." The harsh seriousness in your eyes is beginning to sting me. "Do you regret it?"  
  
"I-I don't know if regret is the word," I say awkwardly. "I don't know what I was doing, if that's what you mean. I just-"  
  
"I don't know what I was doing either!" Your outburst startles me, and you let go of my hand, walking quickly and making your way over to me. "I don't know what either one of us was doing, but that is not the point," you say, enunciating every word sharply. "I know you, Rory. I know that almost whenever you give into your basic instinct you end up regretting it." I begin to protest this, but you stop me. "And don't even try to tell me that you don't. We both know you do. But that's not the point, either. The point is if you regret it this time. Not what you were doing, not what you were thinking then, or now, or what your habits on regret have been in the past. If you regret that night, if you regret acting on your feelings, then you should just leave right now. I've had enough."  
  
With that, you sit down in the stool next to me. I look at you, my mouth wide open, but you don't look back at me. Your jaw is clenched tightly, and you look on the verge of either throwing something or crying. We both sit there for a few moments, me in stunned silence, with my mind spinning.  
  
Then you begin to speak again, slowly and quietly, still not meeting my eyes. "If you don't regret it, then we can work the rest out together. I just-I just need to know." Your voice breaks vulnerably with those last words, and I can feel my heart breaking for you.  
  
I can't say anything. I can't come up with anything that could close to matching the sincerity and spontaneity in your little speech without sounding like a love-struck fool. But then I realize something. I am love- struck. I might not be a fool, but I'm willing to risk sounding like one if that means making you understand.  
  
I move around in my seat to where I'm facing you. You still won't look up at me, so I take both of my hands and place them on your face. Your face is warm, soft, and slightly rough from just the right amount of stubble you've acquired. I trace your jaw-line as gently as I can manage, and you finally look up at me. The look in your eyes makes me go weak, and I'm surprised that I can still speak.  
  
"I don't regret it." Your eyes search mine, looking for some shred of evidence that I'm not lying, that I won't hurt you, and for the first time since I met you, I feel like you need me-or someone-to protect you, to comfort you, and to assure you that everything is going to be alright. You, too, are human and get scared sometimes, and you need something that you've never had-someone to be there for you. You've always tried to hide behind your stoic façade, but you do need it, just like everyone else in the world needs it. And I know that in this moment, maybe and probably beyond this moment, I have to be that person for you. So I assure you the only way I know how to right now.  
  
I pull your face towards mine, and crash my lips to yours, forgetting for now that the rest of the world exists. I forget everything except you. But as I'm forgetting, I vow to remember this snowy night. I vow to remember exactly the way you taste, every last soft hair on your head that I'm running my fingers through right now, and I vow to remember exactly how I feel at this exact moment. Because this moment is a landmark of moments in my life. I know that when this is over, I'm not going to run. I know that I won't wake up tomorrow in a panic, wondering what exactly I'm going to do.  
  
I don't have to know anything. As you said earlier, we can work everything out together. I know there'll be plenty of time. I smile here in the midst of our kiss, and I feel absolutely no regret.  
  
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Ok, you guys! Once again, please please PLEASE review. I don't really know how to proceed after this, so give me some ideas! Thanks. 


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